Philly Phree Phor All
by Jethro25
Summary: AU crossover Marvel and DC w/ a # of OCs taking center stage, w/ appearances from several major characters from both universes, mainly Bat-Family. Set in Philly/Gotham. On-going series based on an RPG. Rated T-some chapters may be M. will mark in chapter.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is wildly AU. It assumes that both the DC & Marvel Universes exist simultaneously upon one world. The primary **established** character is Batman, although even he is secondary to the group of unique (or mostly unique) characters (OCs) that form the heart of the ongoing story. Many other established characters will appear, from both universes. Early on, the three most visible will be Nightwing Jade and Green Lantern (Kyle Rayner). These stories are based on the ongoing GURPS Supers game I ran for a group of friends. Many of the supporting characters (police/doctors/etc.) are drawn from TV shows I enjoy, as well as comics.

This will be a long, on-going work which I will try to update when possible, but realistically, there will be some gaps between updates. I currently have two chapters written, & I really have no idea how long it will be in the end. I have enough material for a minimum of 20-25 chapters, I'd estimate. As always, positive comments & criticisms (reviews) are appreciated greatly & equally. I hope you enjoy, G

**PHILLY PHREE PHOR ALL – Prologue**

Kevin Gravlin sat in his corner office, on the 12th floor of the Rittenhouse building, gazing out at the Philadelphia skyline. He was the prize Investment Manager at Kole Financial, and incredibly young for the position, just twenty-seven. His degree from Stanford didn't hurt, but the simple truth was, he had a nose for making money.

He stood, rising out of the twelve-hundred dollar desk chair, that the firm's two Senior Partners, Diane Kole and Bryan O'Roarke, had given him as a gift when they'd promoted him. The thing was more comfortable than his bed at home. It was a real danger most days, that if he didn't keep busy, he'd fall asleep in the damned thing. He walked to the window and looked down on the city, his city. That was how he thought of it.

He had only one more appointment for the afternoon, but he longed to be out there, in the skies, looking down on it all, the air whipping past him as he soared. You see, Kevin Gravlin was the city's hero, Battery. Well, one of the city's heroes, and certainly the most well-known and media friendly hero.

Kevin's abilities had begun developing in his teenage years. He was able to absorb energy, fire, cold, and electricity, channeling them through his body to fuel his other abilities. He found that he could fly, and fast, though not overly so. He found that he could blend into whatever background was behind him, though that particular effect worked much better when he was standing still than when he was moving. He found that he could manipulate the innate energies around him to put a shield around himself, protecting him from physical harm, and also to make small discs of pure force which he could throw at targets nearby. He could even wrap up another individual in this force and hold him, or her, in place.

Today, however, even when he left for the day, he'd have to delay taking to the skies. He smiled while he contemplated the upcoming evening. Ami Benton, his neighbor, and friend, had invited him to a showing of her work at the Rousseau Gallery, well hers and another pair of artists. She was a painter and sculptor, a little bit odd in some ways, like the green streak she kept in her naturally blonde locks, but very sweet, and pretty too.

And Kevin wasn't one to pass up an invitation from a pretty lady. To call him a gigolo would be going too far, but a player…that was just simple truth. Other than nicotine, his primary weakness was pretty girls. He was tall, around six feet, with a slender, athletic build. He kept himself in very good shape. His blonde hair and chiseled features only solidified his attractiveness to most every single woman he met, and some who weren't quite so single.

He'd been a little more careful about pursuing Ami than most others. He really did like her, and she was his neighbor.

He reminded himself, yet again, that he needed to stop on the way home and pick up the new suit he'd purchased for the event. The tailor had called earlier to tell him it was ready. Armani, it was expensive, but he had money. He'd started with around a million in insurance, and inheritance when his parents' house in Oklahoma City caught fire. He'd used a good bit of it to drown himself in drink after the move to California, for about a year. Then he'd straightened up, applied to Stanford, studied business and investment. He'd been recruited by Diane Kole right out of college. He made a very good income at Kole Financial, middling six figures each year, but he'd also taken what remained of his inheritance after getting the job and invested it. Within a year, the three hundred thousand that had remained in his accounts had become a million again. Now, five years later, he estimated his net worth at around twelve million. He was no Bruce Wayne, but he certainly didn't need for money.

_After the showing_, he thought. _After the showing, maybe I can offer Ami a ride home. Who knows what might happen?_

The intercom on his phone chirped, and his secretary's voice came on the line. "Mr. Gravlin, you're three o'clock appointment in here."

He moved to the desk and punched a button on the phone. "Please show him in, Lydia." He smiled. Kole Financial had been lobbying hard to get some business from Obidiah Stane, and when he'd finally agreed, he'd asked for Kevin personally. His star was certainly on the rise.

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Around the time that Obidiah Stane was settling into the client chair across from Kevin's desk, roughly sixty miles away on the South Jersey Shore, Jared Michaels was getting himself ready for the same gallery showing.

A little shorter than Kevin, at around five-ten, and broader through the shoulders, Jared also had the body of an athlete. After all, he'd been one. A meteoric rise through the minors and a nine game call-up for the Phillies a few years back had put tongues wagging throughout the Majors, but all of that was before the accident.

A chase through the streets of Gotham City between the police and a band of bank robbers had led to Jared throwing himself between a child in a crosswalk and the oncoming vehicles. The child suffered a few bruises and cuts when Jared shoved him aside, but Jared had been hit by one of the speeding cars, and thrown through the plate-glass window of a nearby store. When he reached the hospital, doctors hadn't expect him to live. The fact that both his eyes had been ruined by shards of glass was a distant secondary concern to them.

Everyone was amazed that he made a complete recovery within half a year, except for his eyes. He was blind, except that the accident triggered something within him. He could not see any longer, but he could still sense everything around him. Somehow, his brain could sense his surroundings, in a full circle around him. He'd never again see the beauty of a sunrise, or know the joy of gazing upon the face of a beautiful woman, but he was nowhere near the handicapped man he pretended to be. In fact, his other senses were, if anything, sharper. He could smell the nose of an opened bottle of wine from the other side of a house. He could hear a shoe drop in the apartment next to his. He could read by using his fingertips to feel the ink on a newspaper. His reactions were almost impossibly fast, like a cobra.

This all led to an initial, ill-fated attempt to put his new abilities to good use. He'd survived, but barely. Not long after, he was approached by a man who claimed that he knew about his failure. He offered training. The man called himself Richard Dragon. Jared took a six-month sabbatical, retreating to Dragon's cabin in upstate New York, where the man taught him how to center himself, to seek calm and peace, and when he was ready, how to fight, Ju-jitsu, Karate, Escrima, and Chin Na. When he returned to Gotham, Jared made himself a costume and took the name Perdition.

Unlike Kevin, who was born into a middle-class family and made his fortune, with a little help from the insurance money, of course, Jared was born into wealth. His parents were two of the four Senior Partners in one of Gotham's largest and most influential law firms, Michaels, Richmond, Eberhaus & Michaels. He'd received regular payments from a Trust Fund they'd established for him when he was five years old, and the contract he'd signed with the Phillies coming out of school had been for another four million dollars.

The law firm had offices in New York, Gotham, Philly and Metropolis. His playing career over, Jared accepted a flexible time position with the charitable arm of MRE&M. One of their regular contributions was making charitable grants to local artists, which was his reason for attending the Showing at the Rousseau Gallery. Ami Benton had received a ten thousand dollar grant allowing her to produce her work. Jared would be MRE&M's representative at the showing.

Jared finished tying his tie. He couldn't see if his suit looked good, but he could visualize it, and he figured he would look sharp, black suit coat and dress slacks, deep crimson button down oxford, and a black tie. He had a system for the labels on his clothing that let him know the colors and sizes. And of course, he could tell you the fabric by touch, even the type of blend, with surprising accuracy.

He'd be a little bit warm, with his costume on under the outer layer of clothing, but such had become the norm for him. He was actually looking forward to the event. He couldn't "see" the paintings of course, not without running his hands over them, but he'd be able to sense the sculptures, even if no one else knew that he could.

He had a small bag packed, and sitting on the couch, with spare clothes, a travel alarm, and his toiletries bag. In a hidden compartment at the bottom were his Escrima sticks and a few other accessories for his night-time activities. The car would be there to pick him up soon and drive him the sixty miles to Philadelphia. He had a reservation at the Prince House Hotel, just a few blocks from the Gallery, for the night. They had an excellent restaurant, so the thought of a nice fillet mignon with béarnaise sauce made him smile. He should have time for that, between checking in and the showing. Smiling, he picked up the bag and his walking stick, which was a big part of his ability to maintain his cover as a blind man, not to mention his other activities, and he walked out the door.

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In New York City, Kyle Rayner strode back and forth across the dining room in the apartment of his girlfriend, Jennie-Lynn Hayden. He was dressed to the nines, in his best suit. It wasn't Armani, but it did look good on him. At least he thought so, and Jen had told him she liked it.

"Jen," he called out for about the fifth time, "you're going to be late for your own show." Like most men, he didn't, couldn't understand the various rituals that women went through when getting ready for an evening out. "Jen, you look amazing when you roll out of bed in the morning. What could possibly be taking so long?"

His answer was the opening of the bathroom door. Jennie-Lynn Hayden stepped out, wearing a long black dress which clung to her figure in all the right places. Her black hair was swept up, revealing the emerald skin of her long neck. In a word, she was beautiful. _Of course, she's beautiful, you idiot_, he thought.

"Wow," was what he said out loud, stepping toward her.

She smiled, and his heart skipped a beat. "Was it worth the wait?" she teased, her voice just a tad amused. His stammering nod was all the confirmation she needed that she looked good. Deep down, she liked that she could still have this kind of effect on him, even though they'd been together for more than a year, and they'd spent the night together dozens of times.

Of course, Jennie-Lynn had once been a model. Her smooth, green skin making her exotic and in demand for some time. She'd made a fine living for a while, until she'd come to understand that she wanted to spend her life behind the camera, not in front of it. She'd become a photographer. A dozen or so of her pictures were part of the show at the Rousseau Gallery.

Kyle, on the other hand, was an artist of a different kind, a graphic artist. He drew a weekly comic strip for Feast Magazine. He was accompanying Jen to the Gallery Show as her date.

Of course, they also shared something else, something big. Kyle Rayner was a member of the Green Lantern Corps. Jennie-Lynn Hayden was the hero known as Jade, and the daughter of Sentinel, Alan Scott. While Kyle's power came from his Green Lantern Ring, Jennie had the same power within her own body, though at a much lower level than the Ring supplied him. That energy was what had left her with her distinctive emerald skin.

Kyle looked at his watch. "Even if we leave right now, I don't know if we can get there on time."

"If we take a car, Sweets," she said. Taking his hands in her own. She stretched her neck up and stood on her toes to brush her lips lightly across his, so as to avoid messing up her makeup. As she settled back into her normal stance she tapped his Ring with her thumb. "I think we can find a way to get there on time," she purred. He couldn't help but to grin.

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Dick Grayson loved the feel of the night wind in his hair as he gunned the cycle across the Sprang Bridge and up the ramp onto I-62 toward Philadelphia. His Nightwing costume was insulated and temperature regulated so that he would remain comfortable in temperatures from 110 all the way down to 0 degrees farenheit. It was a late April evening, and the temperature in South Jersey was a balmy sixty-one.

He accelerated up alongside a Volvo station wagon. A young boy, perhaps eight, or nine years old, tried to get the attention of his parents, who were busy arguing in the front seat, to point out to them the superhero next to their car. Dick flashed him a grin and quickly waved before punching the gas again, zipping forward, weaving in and out of traffic. By the time the two adults looked, he was gone, but little Jimmy couldn't wait to tell all his friends at school that Nightwing had waved to him.

It had been nearly two weeks of hard work. Batman and Oracle had him running down leads all over the northeast. Well, he and Robin. The lead he was running down tonight was thin, but Bruce's gut had told him that they might get lucky. Thus, Dick was on his way to Philly.

They were hunting Slade Wilson, better known as Deathstroke: the Terminator, one of the world's premier assassins. They'd gotten wind that he'd come to the States from Africa, but almost as soon as he'd hit the ground in Miami, he'd disappeared. There'd been only one high profile death in that time, a Corporate CEO in Dallas. That might have been his work, but there'd been no confirmation.

Tonight, Dick was headed for some ritzy art gallery in Philly. There was some showing there tonight, a local artist, a sculptor from Pittsburgh who made bizarre metal sculptures, and some of Jennie-Lynn's Hayden's photographs.

There was also going to be a Philly cop, a former GCPD guy who'd transferred over a few years back, by the name of Alex Holden. The last time Dick had seen Holden, he'd been wearing his Robin pixie boots. He was a good man, a good cop. And, there'd be a lady Assistant DA, Julie Trei, beautiful, smart, and tough as nails. The two of them had been going hard at the Philly mobs. As a result, a contract had gone out on them both. It was a large sum of money. It was the only thing Frankie Sapelli and Bruno Corelli had ever co-operated on.

He grinned. If Jennie was going to be there, then Kyle would likely be as well. It was no secret that Jennie-Lynn Hayden was Jade, and also no secret that her photos were part of the show. Any assassin worth his salt would know she'd be there. And any assassin of Slade's caliber would know that if she were there, Kyle would likely be there as well. Who the hell would try to kill two LEOs under the very nose of a pair of Green Lanterns. He barked out a laugh. Slade would. He might even do it just because he'd be doing it under their very noses.

Kyle and Jennie were good. They could probably handle just about anything, but Bruce was worried that they wouldn't be able to handle Slade, and he was right. Not that Dick was deluded enough to think that he could take Slade either, but with the three of them in the same place, they'd take him down. If there was one thing Dick had never lacked, it was confidence.

A quick glance down at the speedometer showed him that he had topped a hundred miles per hour. He grinned to himself and pushed it just a little faster.

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Detective Alex Holden stood up from his desk at the fifteenth precinct. He opened the right hand, top drawer and removed his Department issued Sig-Sauer P225 and slipped it into the Cordovan leather holster at the back of his belt. He shrugged on his herringbone sports coat and walked to the restroom, so he could check that his tie was straight. His ex-wife had bought it for him before their divorce, specifically to be worn with that jacket. She'd told him more than once that, if left to his own devices, he'd end up looking like a train wreck every day.

He gauged his own reflection in the mirror. He was tall, early forties, dark hair slowly going grey, neatly trimmed moustache which was mostly grey, not a bad looking guy, but not a looker either. The tie seemed alright to him, but he definitely wasn't happy about the planned night's activities. Julie was tough and stubborn. He'd tried to convince her that exposing herself like this was a completely unnecessary risk, but she'd insisted. The gallery owner was a friend. His own Captain had suggested that they shouldn't both be there, if she insisted on going, he should stay out of it, but that wasn't his way. There was no way he wouldn't be there to keep her safe, him and three other plainclothes detectives.

Word on the street was that Bruno and Frankie had teamed up, for the first time ever, pooling resources to put out a major contract on them both. He shuddered to think about the kind of talent that might lure to Philly. He'd considered leaving a message for Battery. The last few months, he'd become the unofficial police contact for the city's resident hero. In the end, he'd decided against it. He'd handle it. The first day he'd put on a uniform, he'd known and understood the risks involved.

A quick glance at his watch told him it was time to head over to Miss Trei's apartment building. He double-checked the knot on his tie once more and left.

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Julie Trei paced around her apartment. She'd been ready to go half an hour ago. She was just waiting for her police escort to arrive. She hated having to be escorted everywhere she went, but it only strengthened her resolve to bring down Frankie Sapelli and Bruno Corelli. They were long overdue for their comeuppance.

She wore a long, dark blue dress that showed a bit of cleavage, but not too much, with flesh colored stockings and black two inch heels. She was relatively petite, only five foot three, and she liked the extra height. She wore small silver earrings with a tiny pearl each, and a pearl choker. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair she left down, allowing it to frame her face. Her eyes were also brown, and perfectly made up, so that they seemed like near endless pools. She carried a black clutch purse.

Finally, just as she was getting ready to take out her phone and call Alex, there came a knock at the door. She checked through the peephole, just in case. The Officer outside, Officer Perry, she thought was standing there, just as he was supposed to be. When she opened the door he said, "They just called in Councilor. Detective Holden has arrived. I'll walk you down."

"Thank you Officer," she said. He didn't proffer an arm for her. She assumed that was so he wouldn't be hindered in reaching for his weapon, should the need arise. His partner, Officer Lankford remained by her door. Soon enough they were downstairs, and she was in Alex's car and they were off to the gallery.

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Batman sat in the large swivel chair in front of the Batcomputer. The cowl was pulled back away from his face, and a hot cup of tea sat near his right elbow, courtesy of Alfred. He was compiling reports, trying to make some sense of a jumbled picture.

Something big was happening, but he hadn't yet been able to put all the pieces together. Every instinct he had told him it was huge, maybe Earth-shattering. It was why he'd sent Dick to Philly to deal with Deathstroke. Under normal circumstances, he'd have gone himself. Slade was a challenge that even Batman didn't take lightly. But, between Nightwing, Jade and Green Lantern, they should be able to handle things.

A small window popped up on the lower left corner of the screen, and he was greeted by the welcome sight of a head of wavy red hair and prim glasses. She never went out of her way to make herself beautiful, but there was also no way that Barbara Gordon, or Oracle to many of her heroic contacts, could ever be anything but.

"I've got something I think you're going to want to see," she said without preamble, having long been acquainted with the Batman, and well aware of his disregard for small-talk. "Sending you a link now to a video feed I downloaded from a security company in Sao Paulo."

The link popped up on his screen, and Batman immediately clicked on it, not bothering to scan it for viruses first. If it came from Oracle, it would be clean. The footage appeared to be from a loading dock at a port. Large containers were being off-loaded from a ship. The name of the ship was "Porthius". The video was two days old. He ran a check. The Porthius was a Liberian flagged vessel that was supposed to be running medical supplies from Britain to Haiti. What was she doing in Brazil. He asked the question aloud, knowing that Oracle would hear him through their video/audio link.

"She's not," Barbara said. Another link popped up. It was a US Navy ship report. The Frigate Reuben James had encountered the Porthius in the waters SW of Florida earlier that same day, bound for Haiti. An injured crewman from the Porthius had been transferred to the Reuben James and then flown to Miami for medical care.

"The ship in Brazil is a fake," Batman said. "Do we know what they're off-loading?"

"Not yet," Barbara answered, "but I put in a call requesting that one of our contacts look into it."

"Beatriz," he said. There was nothing of a question in his voice, and she didn't bother to confirm what he'd already guessed.

"If those are the missing industrial components," she said, "then we have a serious problem, bigger than we'd originally imagined."

It was a terrifying scenario. Thefts had been taking place around the world for the better part of the last year, from major technology companies, in New York, San Francisco, London, Osaka, and Sydney. It was only linked together by Oracle a few days earlier, after a theft in Atlanta earlier in the week. With the right scientists to do the work, whoever had stolen all of that technological equipment would be capable of sending a person, or maybe two, on a one way trip through time, at least theoretically.

"The Red Skull," Batman said. "His base of operations is in Brazil, and he'd have the money and the people to pull off an operation like this, not to mention the motive."

"He sends someone back, warns Hitler of the Allied plans, changes history to suit the Nazis," she finished the thought for him. She let out a low whistle, obviously grasping the gravity of the situation.

"He's had two days to integrate that last piece of tech," Batman said. "Get the JLA and the Avengers both on the line. We need to move on this now."

"On it," she said. Her pretty blue eyes, normally so determined and calm were filled with apprehension.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Assassins, Assassins Everywhere & Nary a Cop to Kill**

She snatched another glass of champagne off a tray as one of the servers passed by. Despite having three glasses already, she still couldn't calm the butterflies in her stomach.

The showing was going incredibly well. Even so, Ami Benton couldn't quite force herself to stop fidgeting. Dania Rousseau told her that she'd already sold three of her pieces, one of them to Kevin Gravlin, a small sculpture of a rearing stallion in white marble. She smiled at that. He'd been flirting with her shamelessly all night, and she had to admit to herself that he was looking very good in that dark blue suit, with the yellow power tie.

The crowd parted a bit and she could see one of her fellow artists across the room. Jennie-Lynn Hayden. Ami felt a little stab of jealousy. She barely knew the other woman, but she envied her. She was tall, incredibly beautiful and exotic, not to mention talented. She was considering buying one of the other woman's photographs herself. Plus, she'd had that tall, handsome guy doting on her all night. Ami knew she was pretty, but next to Jennie-Lynn, she felt like an ugly duckling.

"Your work is quite good." The voice came from behind her, and slightly to her right. The man was older, with stylishly combed white hair and a neatly trimmed moustache and a scrap of beard. He wore a dark grey pin-striped suit and matching loafers with a black tie. He was distinguished, good-looking in a way. Ami had always liked older men, but he was maybe a little too old. She had trouble guessing his age. The best she could say was somewhere between forty-five and sixty, but he moved in a confident and graceful manner, and he certainly kept himself in good shape. The only drawback she saw was a patch over his right eye.

"Thank you," she said, but the man was already moving away from her. She looked up to see Kevin moving toward her, and she put the older man out of her mind, unconsciously fluffing her hair.

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Nightwing was on the roof of the Gallery. He'd patched into the security system, and was monitoring the showing from the Gallery's own camera system. His gut was telling him that Deathstroke was already there, but he could find no trace of the man on camera. Not that that meant all that much. Slade was almost a match for Bruce when it came to moving unseen, even in the open.

Dick considered retrieving the suit he'd packed in the storage compartment of the bike and heading into the Gallery for a first-hand look, but he decided to wait it out a little longer. He tapped a few keys on his portable terminal, changing the pattern of the cameras' rotation. Maybe it would trip Slade up if he he'd been counting on the set rotation of the cameras to remain hidden, matching his movements to theirs.

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Alex Holden was nervous. The pain in his gut was a symptom he'd long been accustomed to. His senses were telling him that something was off, but he couldn't figure out what. Everyone was being searched upon entry. No one had any kind of weapon bigger than a pocket-knife, excepting for himself, and the three men he had with him. Two of those men were covering the front and rear exits. A patrol car sat across the street with two Camden PD officers, just in case. Alex and Detective Carter were close to ADA Trei.

He scanned the crowd again, eyes looking for anything out of place, a look that lingered just a bit too long, directed at Julie, or himself, someone laughing a bit too loud, or moving in a way that seemed unnatural. He saw none of that, but it didn't ease his gut any. He took a roll of antacids from his pocket and chewed a pair, but his eyes never stopped scanning the room.

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Jared was enjoying the showing. He was standing with a small group that had clustered around one of Miss Benton's sculptures, which seemed to be an angel in flight, racing a hawk through a cloud. He was enjoying the slightly sweet and spicy perfume, subtly applied, of the woman to his right. He couldn't truly "see" her, but having taken notice of her, he'd be able to pick her out of a crowd of hundreds in the future. It was part of his new "awareness". He could sense the "energy" of a person, for lack of a better word, and catalogue it the way another would remember a face.

Had he never been involved in the accident, he'd not have found this gift, at least he didn't think he would have, and then he'd never have noticed the man moving directly behind him. So far as Jared knew, he'd done nothing wrong, nothing to gain notice, but there was something about him, a sense of malice perhaps, that made Jared's intuition tingle. He started to turn toward the man when all hell broke loose.

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Nightwing's trick with the cameras paid off. Just at the edge of one of them, he saw Slade, in a dark suit moving along the wall, casually it would seem to the untrained eye, or even to a trained eye that hadn't been trained like he had. A quick glance at the other cameras showed his target, the woman, Trei. He started sprinting toward the edge of the roof, firing off his grapnel gun. He'd make an entrance alright, but he had to move fast or he'd be too late.

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Kevin Gravlin approached Ami Benton, putting on his warmest smile. "Hey, great show," he said.

"I heard you bought one of the pieces," she smiled back. "Thanks."

"No, thank you. I know just where it's going to go. It'll look great in my study."

She laughed. "You have a study?"

"Sort of," he said, taking a sip of his champagne. Something caught his eye as he glanced over her shoulder. If he didn't know any better, he'd have sworn that the blind guy, with the dark glasses and the cane, was staring at the older guy moving along the wall looking at the paintings. He'd have shrugged it off, but there was something bothering him already.

He'd seen Alex Holden come in earlier, with the Lady ADA whose picture had been in the papers recently. It hadn't taken a genius to see the two men and the woman with them had been cops as well. They were clearly protecting her, but from what he didn't know. And, it wasn't like he could change into Battery right here and ask the man. Well, he could, his Battery costume, all bright red and yellow, with a full face mask was nothing more than illusion generated by his powers. Normally, under that illusion was a ski mask, just in case he got knocked out, and a utility belt with a few useful items, a pair of burn phones, a few zip ties for improvised cuffs, and the like. Of course, if he just put up the illusion here, someone was bound to notice and then it would be, _so long secret identity_!

Given those facts, and nothing more to go on, he kept a watchful eye on Holden and the ADA, without appearing to do so.

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Kyle had spent the better part of the night smiling and shaking hands. He'd wandered around the Gallery once, admiring the work of the other artists. He'd seen Jen's before, many times. He'd found several pieces he'd liked, but none that were within his rather limited price range. After his initial journey, he'd returned to Jen's side and remained there.

She was doing well. She'd sold a pair of photographs, and the man she was talking to now was interested in buying three more of them himself. Well, his wife was interested in buying them, and he seemed inclined to allow her whatever she wanted.

He let his hand trail across the back of Jen's shoulder, enjoying the soft feel of her skin under his fingertips. He felt her tiny shudder and couldn't suppress his grin at her reaction to his touch. He was thinking some very private thoughts about their return home later when things got crazy.

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A quick, impromptu meeting was arranged in the Avengers Mansion in New York, between Captain America, the Vision, Iron-Man, Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman. It was less complicated than finding a way to get the three Avengers to the Watchtower.

Batman briefed the group on the discoveries that he and Oracle had made, and they quickly decided on how to proceed. Before long, the better parts of both teams were headed for Brazil. There was not one among them that underestimated the threat of the Red Skull.

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Slade Wilson had been an assassin for the better part of fifteen years, and with the possible exception of Lady Shiva herself, he doubted if there was a better one anywhere in the world. He was well aware of Rayner and Hayden across the room, and he dismissed them as unimportant. They'd be easily enough distracted, and he'd kill the woman. He'd be gone long before they had a chance to even realize where the real danger lay.

The cops were no worry. He'd accepted the commission for the ADA, but not the cop. Holden was a former Marine, just like Slade. He had a few rules, even if he was the only one who knew them, and one of those rules was that he didn't kill Marines, unless it was self defense. For that reason, Holden was safe tonight, at least from Slade he was. There were others out there gunning for him though. That was for sure.

In his right hand, Slade had palmed a tiny remote detonator. In his left was a tiny throwing dart, the tip coated in a very rare poison, from a plant found only in the jungles of Madagascar. It would take a hospital in this part of the world hours, bare minimum, to even recognize the poison, and they certainly weren't likely to have any antidote on hand. It was almost time for him to act.

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It's kind of funny in a way, how things work out, especially time. It was almost like the entire thing had been scripted. Nightwing leapt from the roof, his line pulling taut and redirecting him through the front window of the Gallery. Most every eye was drawn, almost immediately to his grand entrance, just as Slade activated his detonator, which triggered the tiny bomb he'd planted on the back of the Camden Police car across the street. It was more boom than bomb, and a shaped charge, directed away from the cops inside. No reason to kill a couple of cops he hadn't been paid to kill, he'd figured. Nightwing's crash through the glass had made his own diversion extraneous. With a quick flick of the wrist, barely even visible to most, he'd launched the dart at the woman, knowing his aim was true, and he turned toward the back exit. The cop guarding that door would be no challenge for him.

Holden's stomach dropped. He'd realized his instincts were right. Rather than draw his weapon on Nightwing as he crashed through the window, the way Detective Carter did, he'd turned toward Julie. He had to grab her and get her out. Of course, he had an advantage on Carter, he'd seen Nightwing plenty of times when he'd worked in Gotham, and knew he was one of the good guys. If he was crashing the party, then there had to be at least one bad guy around.

Jared had heard the tiny buzz from the detonator and "saw" the dart leave the man's hand. Another man, on the opposite side of the woman/target turned toward her, clearly intending to grab her, or knock her down. Jared was sure, from the man's strong, pure energy, he was a cop, a good one. He would be too late though. He dove forward himself, trying his best to make it look as though he'd tripped in the confusion, swinging his cane to intercept the dart. He nicked it, sending it slightly off course, but it still grazed the woman's arm. He recognized Nightwing's "energy" as soon as he crashed through the window.

Kevin, unsure of what exactly was happening, used his powers to wrap up the dark-suited man who'd come crashing through the window, holding him firmly in place, just as the man yelled out, "Slade!" Luckily, there was no visual effect that the power came from him. Ami was huddled against him.

It took him a moment to recognize the dark-suited figure as one of Gotham's heroes. The female Detective with Holden, he thought her name was Melissa Carter, was ordering the man to put his hands up, which he couldn't do through Kevin's bindings. Suddenly, Julie Trei collapsed to the ground, or would have if Holden hadn't caught her.

Holden called out to Carter, "That's Nightwing. He's one of the good guys," as he searched for whatever had Julie out of it. Her eyes had rolled up into the back of her head and she was beginning to twitch. Slade was already out the back door, Detective Kramer lying unconscious nearby.

Kevin released the invisible bonds holding the very frustrated Nightwing, "I can't find any injuries," Holden said.

"She's been poisoned," Nightwing responded. Jade was trying to calm the crowd, assuring them that the danger had passed. Kyle, now accoutered as Green Lantern, leaned down next to Nightwing.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Poison of some kind," Nightwing answered. "Deathstroke uses several exotic ones. Link the ring up with my palm-top computer," he tapped what looked like a hard bit of armor on the back of his gauntlet, which he slid open to reveal a micro-computer. The hard shell was there the protect it. "Find the chemical signatures of Deathstroke's poisons in there and scan her body for those same signatures."

It took less than five seconds for the ring, essentially the most complex and powerful computer in the universe to find the information and match the poison ravaging Julie's body to the information in the file. "Azotroxinite," Kyle said.

"Good," Nightwing responded. All the folk who'd actually remained were gathered loosely around them now, watching, including both Kevin & Jared, though they were not standing close to one another.

"Good?" Green Lantern asked, sounding surprised. "The ring says this stuff is pretty terrible. She'll be dead in ten minutes."

"Unless she gets the antidote," Nightwing said, pulling a small vial from somewhere on his costume, and a needle from somewhere else. He attached the vial to the needle and plunged it into the woman's arm, injecting her with the contents of the vial. Holden watched with wary eyes, but made no move to interfere.

"You just happened to be carrying the antidote for one of the rarest poisons on Earth?" Green Lantern asked.

"I came for Slade," Nightwing responded without looking up. "I was prepared." He looked around. "I think she'll be okay, but is there a doctor here who can check her out?"

A man behind Kevin raised a hand. He stepped forward to look at the young woman.

"Should we go after him?" Jade asked, also now in costume. She used the green energy to hold up the dart she'd found, and dropped it into an evidence bag Nightwing produced and then handed to Holden after sealing it.

"He's long gone by now," Nightwing said. "Damn it."

"At least you saved the woman," Jade replied.

"For now," Nightwing said.

Kevin was itching to get into his own costume. He didn't like that all these out of town heroes were there. He didn't like that he didn't have any real idea what was going on. And, who the hell was Slade? He was angry and distracted enough that he almost walked up to Holden and outright asked him for a report, in full on Battery voice, which was a good octave lower than own. He berated himself, silently, for his near slip-up.

Before long, he put Ami in a cab and slipped away, returning a moment later as Battery. Holden explained to him what had happened. Apparently Slade was a bad-ass assassin, called Deathstroke. Nightwing and the two Green Lanterns (well Jade was almost a GL), had headed up to the roof to talk. The crowd had thinned a bit more, and he decided it was his city, and he wanted in.

When he flew to the roof, there was a fourth "cape", some muscular-looking guy in a form-fitting costume of dark blue, accented with black and grey. He was hung about with a number of some sort batons. He arrived just in time to hear the guy Holden had called Nightwing introduce this guy to the GLs as "Perdition, from Gotham."

"You don't mind if I sit in, do you?" he asked, landing softly next to Jade.

"You must be Battery," Green Lantern said.

"I am, and this is my town, so would someone fill me in." It was clear that he considered it an order.

Nightwing was fairly impressed with the guy's chutzpah. Not many "lesser" heroes would come straight up to him, and a pair of GLs and start issuing orders. On the other hand, he was right. They were all in his city. He began filling them all in on the contracts that had been taken out on Trei and Holden, and the involvement of Slade Wilson.

"Why didn't he try to kill the Detective as well?" Perdition asked. "He was right there next to her. If this guy is that good, he should have gotten a two for one, but he only threw one dart."

_He was inside_, Kevin realized, at the showing. _I wonder which one he was_.

Nightwing explained about Deathstroke's aversion to killing Marines & former Marines. Down below, Kevin noticed Holden leading a somewhat unsteady Julie Trei out to his car, which Carter had checked thoroughly for explosives.

He floated down to them, the others close behind. "Detective," he said, "is she going to be alright?"

"We think so," Holden answered. "We're going to take her to PGH (Philadelphia General Hospital) to get checked out."

"We'll split up," Nightwing said, taking charge. He handed each of the others a small com unit to place in their ear. "GL and I will scour the city and try to find Deathstroke. Battery and Jade can fly cover for the Detective's car on the way to the hospital. There may be another attempt." He looked at Perdition. "Will you be able to keep up by swinging?" The dark hero simply nodded. "Then you should go with them as well," Nightwing said. He turned to Battery and said, "Your city, you're in charge. Everyone stay in touch," he said before turning and taking off with GL to the north. Battery and his group followed Holden's car as it moved off to the west.

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Battery flew ahead, scouting the roads, looking for anyone or anything suspicious along their route. Jade flew directly above the car, and Perdition swung along behind, using a grapnel gun and his natural athletic ability, but keeping up alright.

Technically, the Gallery was just across the Benjamin Franklin Bridge from Philly, in New Jersey, Camden to be exact. Detective Kramer stayed behind to straighten everything out with the Camden PD. Holden and Trei got into the back of the unmarked car. Jensen drove and Carter sat up front with him.

They'd just passed the tollbooth, and were maybe a quarter of the way across the bridge. Assured that their backs were safe for the moment, Perdition had swung ahead, moving down the south side of the bridge while Battery flew down the north side. As the car neared the middle, heading west into Philly, Perdition's enhanced senses caught a tiny bit of movement on the southwestern-most bridge tower.

He tapped the com to activate it. "I've got something, southwest tower." He swung out from the next tower over, landing on one of the thick, slanting bridge cables and began to run at full speed up the cable toward the tower. Kevin's jaw nearly dropped off at the incredible display of balance and agility.

Perdition just managed to make out a figure crouched against the beam. It looked like he held a rifle. Knowing he wouldn't reach the assassin in time, he did the only thing he could. At a dead run, he whipped one of the Escrima sticks from his back and launched it in an end over end spin. It struck the barrel of the rifle just as the shot went off.

The bullet punched through the front window of the car, hitting Detective Jensen in the shoulder rather than the heart. Even so, he lost control of the car, swerving and crashing through the part of the bridge's retaining wall, leaving the car dangling half-on and half-off the bridge, some sixty to seventy feet above the dark waters of the Delaware River.

Incensed at the disruption of his shot, the man dropped the rifle and turned to the offending mask. He wore a costume that was mainly red, which had helped him blend into the dark rust-red of the bridge towers, but with a good bit of silver, in a more or less V shape, and a touch of yellow. Of course, Jared couldn't see the colors. He also had a pair of wrist mounted .45 caliber hand guns, with which he opened fire on Perdition.

"Jade," Battery said, "take care of the car." He began flying as fast as he could toward the gunfire.

"Will do," Jennie-Lynn answered, willing the green energy within her to reach out in the form of a big green hand, which settled under the front portion of the car, lifting it up and pushing it back until all four wheels were once again firmly on the pavement of the bridge.

"Son of a bitch," Deadshot said. "He never missed, and now this idiot, Perdition, he recognized him from his time in Gotham, had made him miss. He opened fire on him, blasting away with both wrist-guns.

Battery had never seen anything like it. The guy unloaded half a dozen rounds. He'd figured Perdition would have nowhere to go, running up a thin cable, and how impressive was that!? When the shots began, he went into a summersault, still moving forward up the cable, allowing the first few shots to whizz right on over him, and when he came out of it, he somehow, pushed off with one foot, launching himself to the next cable over, a leap of some fifteen feet, where he grasped it with his hands, swung around it once like a gymnast on a bar, and landed after a flip on his feet. After which, he immediately started running up again.

The assassin, seeing the bright red and yellow glow of Battery approaching, decided the flier must constitute a larger threat. He turned and began firing at Philadelphia's premier hero. Kevin had long since put up his shields of hardened air, and the bullets bounced off, though one shot nearly penetrated. The shields were good, but they could be breached. He fired off several force disks, hitting with two of three, knocking the assassin back against the beam.

Floyd Lawton could see the situation was bad for him. He had three options. He could surrender. Nope. He could fight them and fail, especially when the green chick finished pulling the car back onto the bridge and came after him as well. Nope. Or, he could dive off the bridge into the river, maybe escape, maybe die on impact with the water. He'd been suicidal for years, and it actually sounded fun. He figured he had about a thirty percent chance of surviving. That's what he did, diving over the edge. Perdition was just about to reach the tower and could do nothing to stop him.

What he hadn't counted on was Battery. His bonds of air wrapped around him, holding him in place, mid-dive, halfway down to the river. Deadshot began cursing up a blue streak. He'd actually kind of been hoping, just a little bit, that the fall would kill him.

When Jade finished using her power to pull the car back up onto the bridge, she flew over to Battery. He released the assassin, only to have her grab him up with her green energy and fly him off to Arkham. Another car arrived to take Holden and Julie to the hospital and the two remaining heroes continued to provide cover until they arrived. A large party of Philadelphia cops waited there to provide a protection detail. Battery and Perdition retired to the roof.

"That was impressive as hell, running up that bridge cable," Battery said. He reached through his costume into a coat pocket underneath the illusion, not that Jared could see the illusion, and produced a pack of Marlboroughs and a lighter. "Mind if I smoke?"

"Thanks," Jared said, "and no, go ahead." He took a moment to get a good read on the guy's energy pattern. It seemed familiar, but a little different. He was pretty certain the guy had been at the showing, but it was like he had two patterns now instead of one. It was something he'd never seen before. "You were pretty good, yourself," he said. "I thought that guy was a dead man when he jumped off that bridge."

"He didn't deserve to get off that easy," Battery replied, taking a deep drag and blowing the smoke out, away from his new friend.

"I thought about trying to snag him with a grapple, but the chances I'd get him weren't good, and his weight would've likely pulled me off after him."

"I'm glad you folks were around tonight. You always work together?"

"Nope," Perdition said. "I worked with Nightwing once, for about two minutes in Gotham. I helped him stop a gang fight. I never met the other two before.

"Gotham, huh? That's a tough town."

"Yeah," Perdition chuckled. "And then some."

"You ever meet the Bat?"

"Yes, but that was before I got my own costume." He paused, obviously remembering. "I watched him take down six armed men outside a bank. It took him about ten seconds to put them all down, every one of them with at least some broken bones."

Kevin whistled, low through his teeth. "He get hit at all?"

"Maybe once or twice," Jared answered, "but nothing serious."

"He's the one who taught you all those fancy moves?"

"Nope." It was clear that he had no intentions of elaborating.

A message came over the coms. "This is Nightwing. No luck catching Deathstroke. We'll regroup. Where is everyone."

"This is Jade, just leaving Gotham. Deadshot has been turned over to Arkham."

"Battery and Perdition are on the rooftop of Philly General," Battery said.

"Good," came Nightwing's response. "We'll regroup there in ten minutes. You can get here that first, right Jade?"

"Faster if you want," came her reply.

"No need to show off," he said. "See you in ten."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm not very familiar with the city of Philadelphia. Most of the geography comes from a AAA city map. The rest I make up. Sorry for any mistakes. The poison Deathstroke used is completely made up. The scene on the bridge with Deadshot and Perdition balancing on the bridge cable while running up the cable, diving and rolling acrobatically was one of the great scenes from the game we played for more than 3 years, & it occurred in the first session. Thanks to those who have reviewed or sent a PM. It is much appreciated. I hope you continue to enjoy. The next update might be a little while, but I'll try to get it up soon, G


	3. Chapter 3

This chapter is farily short, and mostly set-up for Chapter Three. I'll try to get it up soon. Hope you enjoy, not that many folks have been reading anyway, but I do appreciate those who are, and of course, any who are gracious enough to let me know their thoughts about the story, good or bad, G

**CHAPTER TWO**

**The Nightmare of "What If"**

Two hours passed. The heroes regrouped on the roof of PGH. Nightwing filled the others in on the contract that had been put out on Detective Holden and ADA Trei. They agreed that the best thing they could do, would be to pay a visit to

Frankie Sapelli and Bruno Corelli, and get them to call off the hit. As bad as it had become for the Philly mobs with Holden and Trei working hard to shut them down, it would be worse for them to have a serious group of metas in their faces non-stop. They'd have to see that.

In the end, they did see it, and not just because Jade and GL pulled them from their own homes in the middle of the night to a rooftop in downtown Philly, and not just because Nightwing and Perdition both did credible jobs of impersonating the Batman when threatening to drop them from the rooftops, but because both were businessmen. They could see the point that the heroes were making. Both made calls, calling off the hits.

The problem, as the heroes saw it, was that it would take time for the word to get out. Certainly, Holden and Trei were still in danger. When released from the hospital, they were taken back to ADA Trei's apartment, except for Detective Jensen. They held him overnight for the wound in his shoulder. The heroes followed they closely, alert for any sign of another assassin. Eventually, they gathered on the rooftop across from Julie Trei's apartment.

"We'll set up a schedule," Nightwing was saying. "Two of us will cover this apartment, and two of us will cover the Detective's home throughout the rest of the night, once he leaves. Battery can cover the rest of the city as usual and be ready to respond in either direction as backup…." Suddenly, the night was overtaken by a blinding white light, and a rush of sound, like the crashing of a tidal wave descending upon them. Perdition, who had become susceptible to loud noises, fell to his knees first, with the others behind him. The last thing any of them saw was a flash of green springing up around them, and then…..darkness.

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The Avengers Quinjet roared in from the ocean, and over the Brazilian coast, headed toward the massive wetlands known as the Pantanal. The information provided by the JLA said that the Red Skull's compound would be found some forty miles or so from the border with Bolivia. The sleek, dark shape of the Bat-Plane cruised some thirty meters off their port wing. Several other members of the JLA trailed behind the two planes in a bubble of green energy from their resident Lantern's ring. Superman, was not among them, having been called away to deal with an earthquake in Indonesia.

"Time to target, one minute, nine seconds," the oddly human-sounding voice of the Vision announced from Cap's right.

"Confirmed," came the response from the Bat-Plane, via comms."

Out of nowhere, the instruments on the jet began to fluctuate wildly. The night sky lit up like the fourth of July, and Cap tore off his headphones before realizing that the sound threatening to burst his eardrums was not coming from them, but was all around them. The last thing he heard was the gravelly voice over the comms again. "Damn it! We're too late."

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Nightwing fought his way out of the darkness, back to consciousness. He forced himself up to his hands and knees, and then to his unsteady feet. He glanced around. No destruction, some of the city lights were on nearby. No nuclear blast, and not a massive EMP pulse then.

Nearby, the others were also beginning to come around. He started helping them up. In a few minutes, they were all up, if somewhat woozy. Debate began to rage about what had just occurred.

Nightwing tapped his comm. "N to O, what can you tell me about the electro-magnetic event in Philly, O?...O? Oracle, come in." Perhaps the unit had been shorted out by the effect. He pulled another from the shielded compartment in his belt and replaced the one in his ear. He tried again, "N to O, what can you tell me about the electro-magnetic event in Philly, O? Oracle? Batman? Robin?"

"What's going on here?" Jade asked.

It was Battery who first noticed the changes. "Something is off here," he interrupted.

"How so?" Nightwing asked.

Battery shrugged, then paused a moment, glancing around and said, "It's Philly," he said. "I'd know this city anywhere, but it's wrong somehow. There aren't enough lights out there." He moved to the edge of the roof, and then added, "The streets are empty. No one in sight, and it not even eleven o'clock. No cars, no one parked on the street."

Just as he finished, a pair of headlights appeared down the street, coming toward them. For the briefest time, Battery was relieved, thinking that perhaps, hopefully, he'd been over-reacting.

The rumble of the engine grew closer. It was a truck, and a good-sized one. The others had joined Battery at the edge of the roof. The truck passed under a street-light below them. Battery noticed that there was something wrong about the

light itself. He'd never seen street lights that looked like that in downtown Philly, and then he saw the symbol on the side of the car. "Holy crap," he said.

At the same time, all of the others reacted as well, excepting only Perdition. He could sense the outline of the truck, and even parts of the men in the back, almost a dozen of them. It seemed to be some sort of military transport. He couldn't see the symbol though.

"Is that…" Jade started to ask.

"A swastika," Nightwing answered even before she could finish the question.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," Perdition said.

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A pair of top-notch night vision binocs confirmed Nightwing's worst fears. The soldiers in the truck were Nazi soldiers, all heavily armed. The flag flying over the police station down the street was just more confirmation. Not Old Glory, but another swastika. He sunk down onto the roof, gesturing with his hand for the others to do the same. "GL," he said. "lose the green glow."

Kyle nodded and dropped his costume, once again accoutered instead in his

dark grey pinstripe, with his deep green tie.

Nightwing looked to Battery next. Kevin hesitated. He hadn't had time to don his ski mask when he'd put up his costume earlier. He'd be showing his actual

face. He thought about putting up his camouflage field, but he suspected that before they were done with whatever this was, he'd be forced to trust these people with more than just his identity. He dropped the costume.

As soon as his costume was gone, perdition was able to sense his energy clearly again. He was the man who'd been standing with Ami Benton just before the attack on Julie Trei. It seemed that his costume was some kind of energy effect

that interfered, on some level, with his own senses.

"Okay," Nightwing said. "Clearly that flash and the sound were an indication of some sort of reality shift."

"That makes sense," Green Lantern said. "Freakin' Nazis…." He shook his head in semi-disbelief.

"The first thing we need to do is find out where, or when, we are. And, we need to figure out what the differences are between this world and the one we know," Nightwing said.

"Shouldn't we reach out to other heroes?" Perdition asked.

"Might be a good idea," Battery agreed. "Strength in numbers, you know?"

"Not yet," Nightwing said. "We don't even know if the folks we know as heroes from our lives are heroes, or even if they exist here."

"You think the shift was that severe?" Jade asked.

"No way to know until we check," he replied. "Better to be safe for now."

"How do we start?" Kevin asked.

Nightwing smiled and took off the mask that covered a good part of his face. "We agree to trust one another, to watch one another's backs. I'm Dick Grayson." He held out his hand.

Kevin took it and shook, his grip every bit as firm as the Gotham hero's. "Kevin Gravlin," he said.

Perdition pulled off his own mask, "Jared Michaels." Only Nightwing was unsurprised at his obvious blindness.

There was no need for Jennie-Lynn to give her name, but she did so anyway, as did Kyle.

Half an hour later, they had the beginnings of a plan.


End file.
